A silver braid suggests
misshapen maidenhood
grown thick and cranky.
See this crone, a beldame
with mystical powers who is
feared and misunderstood?
I supplicate leniency on her
behalf - for the mantle fell
heavy on her shoulders.
Before her cheeks
withered and knuckles
thickened she said yes
to a vocation requiring
living entombment -
a burial binding her inside
a cell attached to sacred
walls - dead to the world -
an anchoress.
Alchemy transforms her
solitude and suffering for
beneficient flourishing.
Mother wit and wisdom
can't be taught or bought
or sold for profit.
Light a taper at her enclosure
window. Seek her wisdom.
Touch her hand. Ask for prayer.
